


Paradoxa - The Mercenary

by NyeLung



Series: Paradoxaverse [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bounty Hunter Obi-Wan Kenobi, It Makes Sense When You Read It, M/M, Mandalorians - Freeform, Mercenaries, Obi-Wan turning mercenary turning mandalorian, Slow Build, Time Travel, annoying immortals, like glacial, more or less healthy coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9252515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyeLung/pseuds/NyeLung
Summary: Obi-Wan isn't able to kill Anakin in their duel on Mustafar and dies. But as the Force has already started saving people, he finds himself in a different time on a different planet. Soon, he comes to the conclusion that he has to tread carefully so as to not alter his own history but still feels the urge to change things, maybe even save Qui-Gon or prevent the massacre of the Jedi temple on Coruscant. His only problem: He doesn't exist in this time and he can't really go anywhere without a valid identity and passport. So, how to build an identity that no one questions?





	1. Chapter 1

# Paradoxa – The Mercenary

## Chapter 1

### 44 BBY, Bandomeer

He was burning. Inside. Outside. For how long? He didn't know. The Force had left him. Didn't cool him any longer, didn't protect him any longer.

Was he dying? Was he already dead? He didn't know. He wasn't even sure what his name was. The fire burned every thought from his mind.

 

He was still burning, but slowly the flames retreated. Thinking became a possibility albeit a hurtful one.

Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was his name.

He was a Jedi. A master. A member of the council. Teacher to the fallen student, the Chosen One. Maybe Qui-Gon had erred.

Where was he anyway? He wasn't dead. Who had saved him?

Out of pure habit formed in the Clone Wars Obi-Wan reached out in the Force to feel his environment, search for dangers. It had saved him often enough.

The Force was vibrating of life as though all the horrors had vanished, that had happened in the Clone Wars, as though they had never been. A subtle warning pulsated in it, a foreboding of danger that wasn't imminent. It was far away, but too close for comfort.

The were some droids in the same room as himself, but none that were dangerous in any way. Medi-droids, the Force whispered. And there was a person. Force-sensitive, but no Jedi. A fallen one. Obi-Wan knew this presence in the Force, he just couldn't place it at the moment.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, didn't let the other one know that he was concentrated and aware of his surroundings, hid behind the Kinas-shielding Mace had taught him at the beginning of the war. He hadn't released them even in unconsciousness and that was a trait that had saved him time and time again.

The next moment he was happy to have strengthened his shield. Otherwise the other one would have felt his surprise and shock.

In his time he had been one of the most promising Padawans who could have had any master he wanted. He decided for Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan blinked weary in the direction of Xanatos who was sporting an amused smile. This was impossible. Xanatos was dead.

“Now, please explain what a Jedi is doing in my base on Bandomeer? Was Qui-Gon Jinn not enough for the Order? Or were you sent to supervise him?”

Bandomeer! That was where he'd met Xanatos for the first time. So that was the subtle warning he'd felt. The bombs that would destroy most of the planet.

But this was the past. How was this possible? How did he manage to land here? Or was this just a dream, a last dream before he became one with the Force?

“I have no idea what you are talking about”, he answered calmly. This calmness had always served him well in the Clone Wars and was part of why he'd been called the _Negotiator_.

“All Jedi. Always calm and composed. Let's start again. What is your name?”

Obi-Wan had an inkling why Xanatos was annoyed by his calm composure. That was something he had learned from Qui-Gon and therefore something Xanatos hated.

“I hate to repeat myself. What is your name?”

Name. He could hardly give his true name. If this really was the past then he couldn't just blurt it out and possibly ruin everything. Time was a fragile thing and the future doubly so. One wrong course of action could destroy the whole galaxy. Or save it.

What name to give himself? Anakin was out of the question as well as any other name of a person he knew. Maybe he should stick two of them together and at best not Mace Windu and Qui-Gon Jinn. That would sound hilarious.

“Garen Tachi”, he answered. Those were the names of his best friend and of the woman he had loved as a teenager.

“Garen Tachi? Interesting.” Obi-Wan bet his lightsaber that Xanatos would search for him in every databank he had access to. He had to go before his lie was found out. “And what brings you to Bandomeer, Garen Tachi?”

“Nothing. I was on my way to Mustafar.”

For a moment Xanatos looked as though he could barely restrain himself from killing Obi-Wan. His curiosity helped. “Mustafar? That's the other side of the Galaxy but of course I'm going to believe that.” Sarcasm was a terrible thing, Obi-Wan mused. “Why are you really here, Master Jedi? Did Qui-Gon Jinn call for you?”

“Just because you are here as the boss of Offworld? I don't think so”, Obi-Wan answered before he could remind himself that Qui-Gon didn't know about Xanatos' second identity at the moment.

“So he knows.”

“Actually not”, Obi-Wan said carefully. He had to keep Xanatos from speeding his plans up. “Qui-Gon can't bring himself to think about you any different than his Padawan. He is biased. I on the other hand am not and your symbol of the broken ring is not that inconspicuous as you might think.”

“Of course, you were a good Jedi and reported that to the council?”, Xanatos fished for information.

“You think they trust the word of a knight that is out of contact most of the time above one of their most respected masters?”, Obi-Wan retorted with a questions and hoped it was something Xanatos would believe. He hated lying and even these misdirecting questions and half-truths made him too uncomfortable for his own liking. Xanatos snorted. “Exactly.”

“If it is as you say, then you have nothing to fear, Garen Tachi.” Xanatos stood up, his cloak billowing dramatically. Obi-Wan wondered how he hadn't noticed before how theatrical Xanatos could act. “But I'm afraid we have to continue this conversation later on as I am quite busy. I am quite interested in your views of the Jedi council and their ignorance. I think we have some common ground there.”

Obi-Wan bit back a laugh and just nodded in agreement, trying not to scream as his body ached from too many injuries. Did Xanatos just try to convince him of leaving the Order?


	2. Chapter 2

## Chapter 2

### 44 BBY, Bandomeer

He should use the pause he was granted from Xanatos. In the Force he searched his surroundings. He was lying on some kind of stretcher and his whole body ached when he propped himself up in a meditative pose. Before he even started thinking about an escape he should know what his body was capable of.

What he found, startled him. He'd started with his hands and arms. Too good he remembered that he'd nearly died or maybe died for real. Too good he remembered the fire. He just hadn't thought that it would leave such scars, although he should have expected it. Some scars he recognized. Torture marks by Asajj, shots, where he had been hit when Anakin distracted him and the one or other lightsaber scar that had remained from years and years of practice and his duel with Dooku. Everyone could see that the war he'd been in had been crazy.

Now his right hand was one single mass of fiery scar tissue and he possibly should be glad he still had a right hand. The scar tissue spanned itself over his arm up to his shoulder and continued up his neck and down his back. The left side was ever so slightly better. Faintly, he remembered lying on it while his body burned. He tensed and the fresh scars responded with pain. It would take some time until he could move easily again.

He looked down onto his chest. It didn't look any better than his arms. A few souvenirs of Asajj, a few burnt and scarred patches and one bright white scar right above his heart. That was where Anakin's lightsaber had pierced him. Obi-Wan shut his eyes and fought against the thoughts welling up inside him. Now was not the time for tears or grieving. His left hand trailed up his back where he found what he was looking for. Another scar where Anakin's lightsaber had come out. It must have burnt right through his heart if Obi-Wan felt the angle right. He should be dead. No one survived such an attack.

He should cover it up. Whether he was dead or not or should be was something he could think about after escaping.

After taking a few breaths to calm himself Obi-Wan looked further down. So Xanatos had stripped him. That wasn't entirely new. After all Obi-Wan should still consider himself a prisoner and of course he would have been searched and stripped. At least that measure prevented the wounds on his legs from letting the fabric of his pants grow in. He sighed. This wasn't the first time he had to escape prison naked. This time at least he wouldn't be found by Anakin who'd laugh himself sick at the sight.

From the looks of it his legs got it even worse which wasn't that surprising after they'd been closer to the lavas of Mustafar. Carefully he moved one leg and regretted it instantly. It was an obvious observation but it hurt and would hurt for quite some time. Escaping just got worse although it still was necessary. He couldn't stay behind and maybe involuntarily aid Xanatos.

Obi-Wan opened his mind to the Force, let it calm him and released as much of his pain as he could without risking to lose himself in the Force. If he wanted to be able to escape let alone move he would have to rely heavily on a technique Mace Windu had taught him during the Clone Wars. It was close to the dark side but Obi-Wan had enough faith in himself to not give in.

The Force was with him, Obi-Wan reminded himself and stood up. It still hurt but it wasn't as strong any more and he knew that he was able to escape now. Opening the door to his cell and shutting down the droids surveilling him was quite simple after that. The Force guided his movements. The Force held him in its warm embrace while he walked through the corridors of Xanatos' base.

For a short moment he wondered if he should try to get his hands on a weapon but discarded that thought soon. He was barely able to move. If he had to fight he would have to rely solely on the Force. And, he reminded himself, the only weapon he really was comfortable with was lying somewhere on Mustafar around twenty years in the future.

One guardsman crossed his path. He angled for his shock baton but Obi-Wan was faster and pushed him into a wall before taking his blaster. Not for now but later he could use it.

He didn't recognize his surroundings so probably he was in the cellar. After all he'd broken into the building once as a not-quite Padawan and could still remember most of it. War hadn't dulled those memories and he would do a lot to keep them fresh and clear.

He found an elevator, which he could even use. Security in this place was ridiculous. On the other hand Xanatos had nothing on Dooku when it came to being a threat. Obi-Wan had been in worse situations. Or Xanatos simply hadn't deemed it necessary to protect his quarters on a planet he planned to blast into oblivion. Obi-Wan didn't mind as his escape got far more easy that way.

The hangar was found quickly after that and held one freighter that would get Obi-Wan out of here. It was tempting to go on and steal Xanatos' starship but it most likely held a tracking device and Obi-Wan didn't want to steal a ship and then sell it at the next stop. The freighter on the other hand would get him out and no one would notice. Hopefully.

With the Force he surrounded himself with the powerful suggestion of not being there and gasped as pain shot through him. He could either become nearly invisible for anything sentient or feel nearly no pain. Obi-Wan breathed in deeply and let go. The pain would do. He could take care of it as soon as he was on that freighter.


	3. Chapter 3

## Chapter 3

### 44 BBY, hyperspace

Obi-Wan could feel the hum of hyperdrive engines in his bones as he lay in the ventilation shaft to avoid detection. He'd stolen some patches of bacta although he probably should be fully submerged in a bacta tank to heal all the scar tissue from the burning lava. Chances were that he'd have to live with the scars the rest of his life.

He had also stolen some simple clothing. Brown pants and shirt and he tried to ignore how the fabric rubbed into his healing skin even while he was just lying down and trying to sleep. As sleep continued to flee him, he meditated instead and tried to find some semblance of calmness. He was still rattled by finding out that he was in the past. He tried to make sense of it and came up short.

As often as he touched the Force he was reminded that he was indeed more than twenty years in his own past. However unlikely and mad even the thought itself seemed, the Force never lied, people did but not even the mightiest Sith Lord could manage an illusion that elaborate. It was comforting and unsettling at the same time. He lived in the past now.

Obi-Wan stopped himself from silly hopes. Maybe he could change the past, maybe he couldn't. Those were theories that had been discussed in one of his more philosophical classes and he certainly didn't feel in the right state of mind to decide upon those topics. Maybe he should discuss them with Master Yoda.

He stopped himself again. It had always been his first impulse to discuss hard decisions with Master Yoda but the Master Yoda he knew wasn't here. In this time even Master Yoda would be different, younger, far less battle weary and more optimistic. Master Yoda would be at the Temple.

Obi-Wan shuddered involuntarily. He remembered walking the quiet aisles, strewn with the bodies of the fallen. Children killed by a lightsaber or too many blaster bolts to count. The Temple, a place of light and life that he could only picture in his head as a crypt, a silent memorial for the greatest tragedy that he could ever think of, the greatest betrayal.

He closed his eyes when he thought of the moment the blast hit so close that he was thrown off the varactyl and into the depths of Utapau's cities. It was still crystal clear in his mind despite all the confusion how he tried to find answers why his own troops had shot him down. He'd felt that it had be them and not the separatists although he tried to make himself believe that way.

Personally, though, the greater betrayal to him was done by Anakin who had just left him behind, turned against him and everything they had ever stood for. Anakin, who had slaughtered the younglings.

With a startled yelp Obi-Wan noticed that the sudden pain in his hands was his fault because he had been clenching them so tightly, he'd nearly ripped the new skin right open again. He tried to calm himself again. Going to Yoda to ask for help, going into the Jedi Temple was out of the question if even the slightest thought of it disturbed him that much. The pain was still too fresh, too raw in his mind and he wasn't sure if it would ever subside.

Obi-Wan calmed himself back to rationality. He could go to the Temple and try his best. He could try to forget the dead and see them alive and well again although he knew that they would probably die again. He could stand amidst the halls and aisle, amidst the lively crowds and serene people going about their studies … there was no war, he realized only now. The Jedi weren't warriors now. They were archivists, healers, duelists, diplomats … no warriors. There would be peace and he could dwell in it again. Could he?

He groaned in displeasure and tried to find a better position to lie in. His back was starting to ache and he should renew the bacta treatment. Healing himself with the Force? He could do that, it just wasn't his speciality and the way he was unsettled now he probably shouldn't try it. With a sigh he moved in a sitting position and tried not to bump into the walls of the ventilation shaft. Not only would it hurt, it would most likely also give away his position.

While he applied bacta to his aching scars, he faced reality. He needed a plan. Somehow he needed to reach Coruscant. He could figure out how to go on from there. When he saw the Temple he would know how to go on.

At least that's what he hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

## Chapter 4

### 44 BBY, Coruscant

Obi-Wan stood in the big plaza in front of the Temple's main entrance and fought down his nervousness. If he didn't constantly reach into the Force to remind himself that this was now and not an illusion or hallucination, he could smell billowing smoke and death. He clenched his hands into fists and bit down the bile rising in his throat. Everything was alright here. No death.

He took a few steps forward. He could do this. He needed answers and the Temple might be the only place to get them if they were anywhere to find. Maybe Master Yoda knew or he knew someone who knew about time travel. Maybe he could help Obi-Wan with the helplessness that had been trying to drown him since he realized that he really, actually was in the past. What could he do? What should he do? What shouldn't he?

He shook his head to clear his mind. At the moment he let fear guide his decisions. That wasn't the Jedi way and although he had failed the Jedi and Anakin in so many ways he still was a Jedi and shouldn't allow fear to cloud his judgement. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and continued to walk towards the Temple's entrance.

Only when no one stopped him, did Obi-Wan realize that he had shrouded himself in the Force to walk unseen and unnoticed. Above him light flooded into the entrance hall and made the high ceiling look like the golden skies of far planets. Fast, he made his way to the sides and hid in the shadows of the Force. They were there to welcome him.

As he tried to remember where Master Yoda's quarters had been before the attack by Xanatos and the renovations of the Temple, his feet automatically carried him towards the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He'd always come here to calm down before giving his reports or planning new strategies. It had never been more than a few minutes he could sneak in but it had been a welcome peace in times of war.

The sound of laughter made him still and seek for a place to hide. He retreated deeper into the shadows and searched for the laughing person. Obi-Wan paled when he recognized her. Bant. One of his childhood friends that had died during the Clone Wars while trying to save a group of Padawans that had been thrown on the battlefield when they had been far too young. Here she herself was far too young to be a Padawan just yet although he remembered that it wouldn't be long now until she would be chosen.

His hands started shaking and hysterical laughter bubbled up inside him. Had he really thought that he could return? Had he really thought that he could see all the faces again knowing that they would die far too soon? Had he really thought that he could try to appear normal after what had happened?

He turned on his heels and didn't care whether he stayed hidden or not. He had to leave. Now. If he stayed, he would either start to cry or laugh. It felt just too real and bizarre at the same time. Bant, a child again. The Temple filled with life and even laughter. He hadn't seen that since the beginning of the war.

Obi-Wan started to run. He recognized the faces he ran past and remembered most of their fates. Some he had forgotten. There had been just too much death. A younger Mace Windu tried to stop him but Obi-Wan didn't halt in his movements, too bend on getting out. Getting away.

The next moment he nearly tumbled and fell because, apparently, he had been too distressed to notice a human female youngling that just happened to be in the way. He recognized her instantly. Siri. The girl he had loved or thought to have loved until she died in his arms in the first months of the war.

 

Obi-Wan ran until he couldn't run any longer.

 

He took deep, calming breaths and took in his surroundings. He didn't recognize the area but that didn't have to mean anything. Coruscant changed a lot every day and he hadn't been here for more than twenty years after all. The Temple was far away, far enough that he had to concentrate very hard to feel it through the bustling, buzzing life of Coruscant.

It took a lot of effort to not just continue running. His lungs were burning and he couldn't remember the last time he had been this exhausted – safe for the fight with Anakin on Mustafar but even then it had been more of a psychological form of exhaustion and not the burn of oxygen in his lungs – unless he counted burning in lava. His limbs were shaking from overacidificated muscles and fear.

It just had been too much seeing Bant and Siri again. And Mace. Young Master Mace Windu just appointed to the Council if he remembered correctly. Obi-Wan bit his lips and concentrated on his surroundings to stop himself from shaking.

He needed a plan. The Temple and the Jedi were not an option. He tried that and look what it got him into. He fought back a laugh. During the Clone Wars he'd often been told that he always seemed so calm and collected like nothing could unsettle him, shatter his beliefs and trust in his troops. Now he had nothing of that left.

He would have to find something else to define him, something else to be, someone else to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying piece to this chapter is from Mace's POV and can be found here: [Behind the Scenes: Paradoxa - The Mercenary - Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10471284)


	5. Chapter 5

## Chapter 5

### 44 BBY, Coruscant

Obi-Wan wandered around aimlessly while his mind was racing with thoughts. He didn't regret visiting the Temple. It had opened his eyes to one harsh truth. In that moment when he ran over the young Siri and Mace Windu tried to catch him but didn't ignite his lightsaber right away … only then did he realize that Obi-Wan Kenobi had died on Mustafar twenty five years in the future. Because he had _expected_ an attack by Mace Windu, a friend. In that split second he had _expected_ having to fight again.

He had been a Jedi, a diplomat, a _peacekeeper_. The war had remade him into a general, a warrior. Somewhere along the way he had stopped to believe in peace, somewhere along the way he had lost his trust in the Force. He had stopped counting all the lives he had taken, all the times that blood, mud and dust had dried on his hands and face. All of it had been for a greater good, hadn't it? Obi-Wan smiled without humour.

Going to the Temple had made him realize that what he had become had no place here. There was no war to fight, no Sith to … He halted in his movements. There was a Sith and he knew who it was. He should even be on Coruscant now. He could just go and –

Obi-Wan stopped himself again. He could barely walk without pain, every movement was a calculated risk considering all the fresh burn scars on his body. Even if Palpatine wasn't as strong now as he would become in the future, Obi-Wan was no match for him. He wanted to scream about the unfairness of it all, wanted to punch something but he reigned himself in. It wouldn't make him feel better.

His knees gave in when – finally – it all took its toll on him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had lost his Master, his home, his brother and friend, his family, his hope and his ability to trust. The time had come for Obi-Wan Kenobi himself to be lost along the memories of the past. He couldn't go back and he couldn't continue the way he was. Obi-Wan Kenobi had died in the lava of Mustafar and he died again in the streets of Coruscant. Whoever was left had to pick up the pieces of the person he had once been.

 

In the streets of Coruscant Garen Tachi pulled himself together and stood up. This would be his name now. It was a promise he made – to himself and to everyone he had failed. He wouldn't fail again. He would do everything in his power to stop these things from happening again.

First, he had to formulate a plan.

Garen Tachi wasn't the type of man to hide as a hermit. He had fought too long to sit still and meditate in peace for longer than a few days, let alone years.

Of course, he could also try his hand at being a bodyguard for some senator or ruler. Alderaan would be great but then, he didn't possess any kind of identity or past. He would be put into prison before being able to say “Jedi”. The only work for people without past – like him – seemed to be illegal jobs for the Hutts or other crime syndicates.

The only other possibility seemed to be a life as a bounty hunter or mercenary. He had tried it before but now he wouldn't have to pretend to be someone else. Additionally, he would be able to choose his targets and jobs.

They said, Jango Fett had possessed a strict code of honour, he continued the thought. He could build his own code. He could still do his meditations and exercises. He could still be a – No he couldn't. Being a Jedi was more than a weapon, a code of honour and the skills of a fighter and he lacked it. He had had it once and it had been lost along with so much before. No, Garen Tachi was not a Jedi, nor could he ever be one. Garen Tachi was someone else.

He needed weapons, a starship and clothing. The things he had stolen from Offworld were a start but not enough to last him for long. He also needed Bacta and lots of it. He could already feel the pain seeping in through the cracks in his mental armour. The scar tissue hadn't healed completely. Garen doubted it ever would.

He also needed money.

Garen sighed, looked up into the skies of Corsucant and only found them dark and shrouded by skyscrapers. He would have to prepare before he could ascend again. Now was the time to dwell deeper, not draw any attention and getting used to himself.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead. Garen Tachi had been born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok, this was a mean chapter and I am evil. Or something like that. I don't know how often I had to rewrite this chapter after trying to translate it dutifully from the "original" German version into English and then decided that it would be better (and solving some future problems) if I did it a bit differently. So here ya go. It's an experiment but that's normal for writing, isn't it?  
> And I thought it would fit him better. For someone considered to be very close to being the perfect Jedi, Obi-Wan has a lot of flaws, for example taking unnecessary risks (or at least badly calculated ones) or dealing in absolutes. In the first German version, Obi-Wan had tried to stay at least a bit Jedi but... it doesn't work that way. And considering where he just came from, what he has just seen ... nah, he can't return. This is a warrior who has lost everything and he has to find a way to live on. For him, this is the only way.  
> At least, that's what I'm thinking. Don't worry, he won't turn into a completely different person or something like that. He just needs a bit of help in getting (and allowing himself) a fresh start.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me embarassingly long to write for a simple build-up chapter but it is done now. Enjoy a bit more of Obi-WanXunhealthy coping mechanisms.

## Chapter 6

### 44 BBY, Coruscant

The higher levels of Coruscant welcomed him back with the usual, familiar mix of voices, smells and lights. It was hard to look away from the skyscrapers – some of which had already been replaced by others during the time of the Clone Wars – and the busy people marching around, living their life in the centre of the Republic. This was the Republic's heart. This had been his home.

It was easier now to think of it as his former home after he had had time to think about himself. It hadn't been easy to bury Obi-Wan but it had been necessary. He was still the same man, Garen liked to think, but maybe he was less burdened by his past because it wasn't his past. The scars were his but he hadn't gotten himself into the messes that had produced those scars.

He would have to leave the upper levels soon. He had no ID and, frankly, he looked like a suspicious individual. Garen also had no money to buy anything here. He needed credits. And food. And a job. You couldn't just start as a mercenary and hope for jobs to find you, especially not in the upper levels.

 

He found the right district easily enough. The Uscru Entertainment District was still vivid in his memories from the hunt for the bounty hunter that was trying to assassinate Padmé Amidala. There should be some clubs here who needed a bouncer. Some shady establishment that wouldn't care where he came from.

His steps led him through the streets from the well-known, bright clubs to the shadier establishments in darker streets. He ended up in the front of some cantina of sorts. Qibbu's Hut. He raised one eyebrow. If this Qibbu was a Hutt, then that was some very bad pun. But since his door was far open and no bouncer in sight, Garen was sure that Qibbu was in need of one.

He entered the cantina carefully, expecting some kind of ambush. In his head he was still caught in the Clone Wars, still always expecting an attack.

It didn't come. Instead he found the insides of the cantina in shambles and a Hutt lying on the floor groaning in discomfort. For a moment he thought about leaving. This seemed like a shady business he didn't want any part in. Then he remembered that he had nothing and needed this.

So Garen knelt down next to the Hutt and put on a carefree smile. “Seems to me like you're in trouble. Need some help with that?”, he asked in his best mercenary impersonation. It would have to become a reality sooner than later if he wanted to survive.

The Hutt groaned louder and then sat himself upright.

“To me it looks like you're in desperate need for a bouncer. And some personal, to be frank. So what do you say? I keep the vermin out and you let me live here.” This was aggressive negotiations, Garen knew. You didn't need a lightsaber to threaten someone and get what you wanted. Most of the time it was enough to hold a proverbial knife to someone's throat.

The Hutt laughed. “The Black Sun sent you to keep an eye on me? Didn't think I was that important.”

Garen shook his head. “I'm not Black Sun. You could say I'm worse. I'm a freelancer with nothing left to lose.” He was lying, of course. He had the whole future to lose.

 

He got the job. Qibbu, just like Garen, was out of options, so they got to work together. He helped to clean up the rubble with a kitchen aide – a twi'lek named La'falla – that had been promoted to chief cook since the old chief cook had fled.

In the evening – since Qibbu's was closed this day due to unfortunate circumstances – he retired to a small room in the end of a hallway. This was to be his room for the next time and he already didn't like it. The air was damp in here and it was even smaller than the room he had lived in as a Padawan. At least it had a fresher and that was where the next surprise waited for him – his face. He had had to clean the mirror first, though.

After thinking about it, for a moment, he shouldn't be acting so surprised. His whole body was a mess of scars. Why should his face be any different?

He wouldn't have to shave for a while, since his beard and most of his right eyebrow had gone up in flames, so to say. He smiled about his pun. Actually, he should be glad that he still had both eyes, now that he was able to take a look. His whole right half of the face was now adorned with a flaming red scar that continued on his temples. At least his left side had been mostly safe.

He sighed before he began to rub the last of his stolen bacta onto the scars so they wouldn't rip open. He needn't worry to be recognized this way, not even when his younger self reached his age. 

Garen stopped dead when he noticed that _he_ recognized this face. His face. He had dreamt about it for weeks and months when he had been still new as Qui-Gon's Padawan. He'd never found out the reason behind those dreams and who that mystery person was … Now he knew. He had dreamt about himself because he now shared his timeline with another version of himself. But why had it stopped? And when? He couldn't remember.

Garen shook his head to banish the thoughts. He had more important things to think about than old visions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, Garen may be a bit darker than I first thought. Displacing trauma is just never a good idea and Garen is the personality that was forged in the Clone Wars so I guess it makes sense for him to be a bit harsher than the typical Jedi? Maybe even ruthless? I'm as curious as you to see where this leads.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will notice in this chapter that I will switch between Obi-Wan and Garen to refer to him. That's because 1. He's not settled in the role of Garen Tachi yet and 2. because sometimes his more jedi-ish parts come to the forefront and then he's completely Obi-Wan again.

## Chapter 7

Garen sighed. It had only been a few days since he started working as Qibbu's bouncer and he was already beginning to regret his decision. He didn't like pushing around people who couldn't afford to pay but were desperate anyway. He worked hard to suppress his training here. Showing mercy or compassion wasn't common in these parts, especially when it was directed towards poor people. He was beginning to think that maybe he should rather go to Corellia and join the Green Jedi than become something that he was not and never wanted to become - cold.

Though to get to Corellia, he needed to earn some money and that's how he ended up as Qibbu's delivery boy during the day and his bouncer at night. Maybe he owed Qibbu at least something. After all, he was on his feet again thanks to having a place to rest and access to bacta. Now the scar tissue had properly scarred and wasn't hurting that much any longer. It would, however, be a constant reminder of the past he tried to push to the outermost corners of his mind. And he owed Qibbu for the bacta.

Garen lowered his head, trying not to grab anyone's attention while he was delivering this mysterious package for Qibbu to another bar owner. He was curious as to what the package contained but he stopped himself from looking. He needed to do this to repay Qibbu and not mess it up.

A group of thugs moved along the street and Garen ducked deeper into the shadows. They walked like they owned the place. One wore partial armour with a shoulder pauldron. Black Sun. No he shouldn't start any trouble here, he thought before he noticed that the armoured thug had about his size. He paused in his movements. While he still thought it tempting to go to Corellia, he wasn't sure he could stand to be a Jedi. He had digressed too far from the path of a Jedi, after all. And this was a chance to acquire something needed on the path to becoming a mercenary.

It was practically suicide to attack members of an organisation that had survived and strived for thousands of years but then... Obi-Wan hadn't always been smart or sane about picking his battles and Garen wasn't either.

Although it probably wasn't the smartest move, Garen wanted that armour. Taking something from the Black Sun couldn't possibly be that bad a thing, considering that it had also been justified to take whatever they wanted from civilians in the name of the Republic. Obi-Wan hadn't made use of it whenever he could but sometimes the war effort had been demanding it. He knew that some officers had also misused this privilege.

He wondered what his former fellow Jedi would say if they saw him now. He was practically justifying robbery.

But he wasn't a Jedi anymore, was he? He had walked away from the Temple - ran from it, actually. No true Jedi could do that. He left the Order. Even lone Jedi were still part of the Order or some of its enclaves. Garen wasn't even that.

Maybe he should get used to the greyer areas of the law. Stealing from Black Sun certainly wasn't illegal. It was most likely asking for a painful death, though.

They were coming closer. If he wanted to acquire that armour, he would have to move now. Garen sighed. He would regret this.

He called on the Force to help him obscure his face with a variation of the mind trick. If he attacked the Black Sun now, they would want revenge and he didn't want them knowing what he looked like. With the scars on his face, he was too recognizable.

Garen left the shadows of the streetside and walked straight in the middle. He would be clashing with the Black Sun thugs every moment now. There was the giddy anticipation of a fight in his veins. It was just like in the war with the difference that he didn't have any other weapons than the baton Qibbu had given him for his job as a bouncer. He would have to trust in the Force in this fight just like he had always done since he was small.

He pressed the package against his chest and got ready. Now! He moved in accord with the Force's guidance and barged into one of the thugs while simultaneously slipping his hand into one of their pockets.

With the freshly stolen money in hand he turned on his heels and while the thugs were shouting, he ran into a dimly lit street. He couldn't fight like he wanted to with many people looking. It was far better to lure the thugs away and take care of them then.

"You better run fast, coward!", the thug he'd stolen from yelled after him.

Garen slowed down a bit. Not far enough to be caught but so that he was slow enough that they could catch up to him. The street was empty, one of the lights was smashed and there was rubble lying around.

He stopped abruptly, sliding to a halt while simultaneously grabbing his baton and getting ready for a fight. With the Force he threw the package securely onto a building's ledge and making it look like he used pure strength for it.

He moved fast, a bit faster than a normal human could and wielded the baton with the precision brought forth by years and years of training and although a baton wasn't a lightsaber, it could be used like one except for the part that a baton didn't sever arms or legs.

There. Straight into the armpit. Clubbed another in the stomach and then turned around and ducked to evade a hit aimed for his head.

He spun around, twisted and hit. It became a rhythm, a fast-paced melody of breaths hitching and thuds from the impact of his baton.

His breath was synchronising with the rhythm of his beats, everything was moving slower and terribly fast at the same time and Garen just reacted. Training that had been ingrained into his every movement and instincts sharpened on the battlefield of the Clone Wars kicked into gear.

His Force senses picked up a presence while he was just taking care of the last one. It interrupted his concentration for a moment and he was hit square in the face. Immediately, his nose started to bleed and his mouth filled with the taste of metal.

It was more than one presence. Force presences shining with light. They had to be young Jedi, Padawans most likely who weren't that used yet to concealing or dimming their presence in the Force when outside of the Temple. To Obi-Wan, it had become second nature since the Clone Wars begun.

Garen knocked down the last thug with a particularly well-placed blow to the forehead. The fight was over and he had won. Now he could concentrate on slowing down the nosebleed. Spitting out some blood, he knelt down with a calmness he didn't actually feel. He started to strip the one thug off his armour. That was what this conflict had been all about, after all. 

The Force presences were closing in. Maybe his shields had slipped when he was fighting, concentrating on still obscuring his face and also making sure the package he had to deliver would be safe. He stopped putting the armour plates in a pile when he recognized the Force presences. Siri Tachi and Garen Muln, friends in his former life before he became Garen Tachi, taking on their names as a promise not to fail again.

He had a choice to make and he had to do it fast. He could meet them and reveal to the Order that he was still on Coruscant - as far as he knew Mace, he wouldn't have stopped searching for the one who had nearly run him over in the Temple. Or he could hide behind strong shields and hope that they wouldn't notice him and not wonder about the unconscious pack of Black Sun thugs.

Not likely.

He was searching through their pockets for cash or anything useful at all when the two arrived and skidded to a halt as soon as they took in the scenery.

"You," Siri said as soon as she recognized his face.

Right. He had run her over. "Me."

"What are you doing here?", she demanded to know. "We felt a disturbance in the Force. Was that you?"

Obi-Wan sighed. It was hard trying to be Garen when he was standing face to face with his past. "That might have been me," he answered carefully. "But young Padawans as you shouldn't just rush in when noticing a disturbance in the Force. I could have been a Fallen Jedi or worse, a Sith."

"The Sith are gone," Siri answered immediately.

"Would that they were." Obi-Wan wondered how much he could tell her and Garen. How much would be able to change the future? Was it even possible? "Now, you will go back to the Temple. Why are you even outside? And you will forget what you saw here."

"We are on a training mission," Garen piped up. He had been intensely watching Obi-Wan's scars until now. "Our Master should be around here soon."

"Then I better leave." He bundled the armour up in the cape of one of the thugs, got up and retrieved the package with a frivolous use of the Force.

"So you are a Jedi but who are you?" Siri frowned.

"You don't have to know." He threw the bundle of armour over one shoulder. "And I'm not a Jedi. Not anymore."

"You used the Force. What are you if not a Jedi?" Siri crossed her arms. "Also, you ran me over. I deserve a name at least."

Her serious face made him want to smile. It reminded him of better days. "Maybe I do. I'm called Garen Tachi." Siri and Garen looked at each other pointedly. "And as for what I am... ask Mace Windu about Arren Rak and the Lost."

The Lost - twenty Masters who had left the Jedi Order without immediately becoming Sith. They all had fallen sooner or later and Obi-Wan didn't think he would be any different. He would have to prepare for the time when he would fall as well.

Arren Rak, however, was a well hidden secret of the Jedi Order. Only select Masters knew about Rak since he was a deep cover identity for Jedi Shadows. Obi-Wan had only found out about them after he was appointed to the Council. Maybe flinging around that name would be enough to tell Mace to back off. He rather doubted it.

He left without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a "Behind the Scenes"-Oneshot accompanying this chapter [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471284/chapters/34820195) if you are interested. There's more about the meaning of Arren Rak and the Lost.  
> Also, Obi-Wan refers the the Lost as twenty Masters although Dooku hasn't left yet in this time but since it's from Obi-Wan's point of view he counts the Count (hahaha, sorry) among the Lost.


End file.
